


Let Me Please You

by emptymasks



Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier & Related Fandoms, Rebecca - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Awkward Crush, Bi-Curiosity, Crush at First Sight, Enemies, F/F, First Meetings, Master/Servant, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possibly Unrequited Love, Power Dynamics, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no fics for this ship so i had to make the tag myself, up to you whether danvers is just toying with ich or actually is gaining feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptymasks/pseuds/emptymasks
Summary: She had always felt the urge to please people. It came from both a desire to be helpful and kind, and a fear of being a disappointment. A disappointment; That's all she had ever felt like growing up. Her father, lovely but saddened that she hadn't tried harder to do something worthwhile with her art, and her mother, barely there at all. She tried to remember her mother's smile. She could see it in profile, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, bouncing, as she spoke to her father, but as her mother's head turned to face her the smile always vanished.She thought about this when she thought about Mrs. Danvers.
Relationships: Maxim de Winter/Narrator (Rebecca), Mrs. Danvers/I, Mrs. Danvers/Ich, Mrs. Danvers/Narrator, Narrator (Rebecca)/Mrs. Danvers (Rebecca)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	Let Me Please You

She had always felt the urge to please people. It came from both a desire to be helpful and kind, and a fear of being a disappointment. A disappointment; That's all she had ever felt like growing up. Her father, lovely but saddened that she hadn't tried harder to do something worthwhile with her art, and her mother, barely there at all. She tried to remember her mother's smile. She could see it in profile, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, bouncing, as she spoke to her father, but as her mother's head turned to face her the smile always vanished.

She thought of this when she thought about Mrs. Danvers.

While the majority of the staff had stood upon the stairs, looking down on her, _judging_ _her_ , their white aprons and shirts gleaming in the soft copper light, she couldn't help but notice the figure in black. Not wanting to be rude, she hadn't looked at the figure until Maxim introduced her.

Black skirts skimmed against the floor as she approached, hiding her feet so that it looked as though she could be floating along. She raised her head and was met with cold blue, almost grey eyes.

She was transfixed.

The woman kept walking, as if she could walk straight though her, as if she were only an apparition, a lonely ghost seeking acceptance in a house full of the living who did not wish to know or understand her. She had stumbled back, the heel of her shoe sliding, and her gloves fell from her hands. They made a soft, padded sound as they hit the floor.

Mrs. Danvers still had her eyes on her, and she felt compelled to keep returning the gaze. But she was never good with prolonged eye contact, always glancing away, feeling suddenly silly and shy. There was something there in Mrs. Danvers' eyes. Something cold and hard and... painful.

She didn't know how the staff in houses like these worked, how they thought of their employers. She hoped they were treat well and in return they gave loyalty. Perhaps they would grieve their employers like a dear friend. Perhaps Mrs. Danvers had done that.

How awful, she thought. She noted no ring on Mrs. Danvers hand and she assumed a housekeeper would live on the premises.

Had she lost a husband? Was Mrs. Danvers as alone as she had been before meeting Maxim?

The gloves were still on the floor.

She started bending her knees and reaching out her hand. They were her gloves and she'd dropped them, so she was supposed to pick them up... right? It seemed a silly thing to get someone else to do. Her legs trembled as she realised she would have to lean back a little, as they were stood so close that her head would brush against Mrs. Danvers' dress.

She couldn't explain why she kept the eye contact as she bowed. There was something, she didn't know what, but something in the older woman that made her want to make a good impression. Well, more so than she normally did when meeting anyone. Mrs. Danvers raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, and she froze.

Her heart thudded against her ribs and she straightened back up and then watched as Mrs. Danvers elegantly dropped to her knees.

Oh god, she felt flushed.

She was the one looking down as someone else picked up her mess and she could not shake the feeling that she wasn't in control here. Entranced, their eyes still connected, Mrs. Danvers rose and placed the glove over her hands, still uselessly outstretched. She might have imagined their fingers brushing.

"I'll have Clarice assist you, since your maid has not yet arrived," Mrs. Danvers voice was sharp and pristine. It was a little deeper than she'd expected and she found that she liked it.

"Oh, I don't have a maid," She smiled, trying to be friendly. It seemed a normal thing to say, but Mrs. Danvers face twisted and she was hit with that feeling of not belonging once again.

"I need to sort some business out, Mrs. Danvers will show you to your room, darling," Maxim's voice brought her back to her surroundings and her head moved slowly into him as he kissed her cheek before leaving the house.

She was now alone, in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by unfamiliar people who were all staring at her, taking her in, and, more than likely, trying to figure out why Maxim would want anything to do with her.

Mrs. Danvers uncoiled her arm, gesturing towards the staircase that loomed over them. She took a glance back to the front door, before resigning herself to walking up the stairs. Mrs. Danvers heels clicked behind her.

She had thought the house had seemed enormous from the outside, but somehow it seemed even bigger as she looked down through the banisters, the entrance hall so far away and lost.

She stopped awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Danvers hadn't told her which way to go.

"The east wing would be that way," Mrs. Danvers turned her head to the right, speaking as though she should had obviously known that.

She felt a nervous smile form on her face and bit the inside of her lip. It would take time for Mrs. Danvers to get used to her, but whether or not people had liked her, they'd at least always gotten along with her... at least, to her face. But even if they thought she was weak, everyone had always at least agreed she was amiable.

The house was old, but kept in a beautiful state. The ornate windows let in pure streams of light, she couldn't see a speck of dust anywhere, and she felt as though she could see her reflection in the doors the wood was polished that thoroughly.

Should she compliment Mrs. Danvers? She was in charge of all the staff and she obviously worked hard, perhaps she would like the compliment. Or perhaps she'd be insulted? As if it implied she had expected the house to be dirty.

But everyone liked to be complimented, didn't they?

"Manderley is so beautiful, Mrs. Danvers. You and the others must work very hard," She looked to her left to find that Mrs. Danvers was now walking slightly ahead of her. She hadn't realised she'd been overtaken. She hadn't thought she'd slowed down, but Mrs. Danvers was a fair bit taller than her...

She hadn't really realised that before. Or, if she had, it hadn't struck her as it did now. Mrs. Danvers turned her head slightly, looking back at her. "How... _kind_ of you, Madam."

Mrs. Danvers mouth grimaced around the words. Did she think she was being insincere? She had hoped her tone hadn't come across that way. Or maybe, oh what a shame, maybe Mrs. Danvers wasn't used to compliments? She was going to make sure that changed.

They stopped outside a set of double-doors at the end of the hallway.

"Clarice will be coming up with your belongings, let her know if you need anything."

"Thank you," She turned but Mrs. Danvers was already walking back down the hall.

The room was beyond lovely. She spun in slow circles, drinking it in, until she let herself sink into the bed, hands running through silk sheets. She sighed and let herself lay back and close her eyes. She could almost taste the salt water from the sea air, as the breeze fluttered in.

The cold air kissed her skin and her mind was drawn towards cold hands and colder eyes.

In the morning she resolved to try and get a mental map of the house, that way he could at least save herself the embarrassment of having to ask someone how to get back to her room.

She poked her head into the various rooms as she worked her way down the hall form what was now hers and Maxim's bedroom. There were drawing rooms and dining rooms, and a couple rooms full of furniture hidden under sheets. Maxim had mentioned their room was brand new for them, recently renovated, so she assumed that was the reason for these ghostly rooms.

She didn't spend too long in each room, taking in the art on the walls and being fascinated and delighted with the different things she could see out of each window, until she entered a room further down the hall, past the staircase.

Every time she entered a room she looked up at the ceiling. She felt silly for it, but it was so foreign to her to see a ceiling that high. Why, back in Braithwell you could fit at least two, maybe even three, rooms stacked on top of one another in the same space. Her eyes trailed down to the wallpaper, a soft red with gold brocade-like pattern flowing across the room. The room was mostly bare, but her eyes were drawn towards the desk, clearly the focus of the room.

There wasn't anything on the desk, no papers, no books, and she couldn't imagine Maxim using this as an office... Perhaps this was Rebecca's then... Though, this room seemed cleaner than any of the other ones she'd been in (not that the other's had been dirty).

"Can I help you?" She jumped as the voice came out of nowhere. She put a hand on her chest as if that would calm her breathing and was just thankful she hadn't screamed.

Mrs. Danvers was stood partially behind a glass case, blending into its shadow. Her eyes shifted to the contents of the case. They seemed to be orchids, impossibly pretty, but strange to look at through the glass. An imprisoned beauty.

"Oh, no thank you. I just thought I would look around, try and get acquainted with the house. I wanted to try to get to know the rooms..." She trailed off, glancing up at Mrs. Danvers, inviting her to talk.

Mrs. Danvers took the bait, as her head raised.

"This is the morning room," There was pride in her voice and she felt pleased. Perhaps they were making some progress. "After she'd had breakfast, Mrs. de Winter finished her correspondence and phone calls in here."

Mrs. Danvers walked towards her again, stalked towards her, almost brushing against her as she walked past and she shivered. "This is her secretary," She felt enraptured as Mrs. Danvers spoke, as if she were imparting some intimate secrets with her. "Her guest book, her stationary, and in here, her phone book, business cards, and her calendar."

Mrs. Danvers smiled as she traced her hands over the wood and she followed the movement with her eyes. She looked so much younger when she smiled.

"Rebecca de Winter..." She murmured the words as she looked at the embossed 'R' gracing the front cover of all the books, swirling and coiling like ivy.

She looked over the desk. Mrs. Danvers had carefully placed each item down, so that none of them were touching. There was also a phone, a clock, and a small sculpture. She reached out her hand towards the sculpture, not touching it, just hovering her fingers over it. She could feel Mrs. Danvers walk back around the desk.

Mrs. Danvers was towering over her again. She could feel the thick, warm fabric of the black dress against her bare calves, tickling and caressing at the same time. A hand came around her and elegantly hovered over her own that still was floating over the sculpture.

She could feel breath on her neck.

"That is her cupid. The god of love. How she adored this little sculpture..." Mrs. Danvers voice trailed off, as if she was lost in her memories.

She drew hand back to her chest and held it in a fist at the base of her throat. She was hyper aware of her own breathing, and was keenly focused on not moving an inch as Mrs. Danvers was still right behind her. If she turned her head, her face would be right there...

What was she thinking? Why was she feeling hot? Was she ill? She couldn't be... Perhaps the journey to Cornwall had tired her out more than she'd thought. Yes. That had to be it. A perfectly normal explanation...

Mrs. Danvers still hadn't moved, her hand was gliding along the outline of the little angel.

She cleared her throat. "Have you been at Manderley long?" She squeaked out and winced.

Mrs. Danvers drew back and she tried to remember how to breathe.

"I came here with Mrs. De Winter when she married," Mrs. Danvers stood with her hands clasped in front of her, face neutral and passive, but her gaze flickered over her for a moment before she returned to speaking. "Since her childhood, I was always there for her..."

And just like that Mrs. Danvers' eyes went somewhere long ago and far away. She seemed to realise this time, eyes widening, before clenching her hands into fists at her sides and starting to walk out of the room.

"I meant it, yesterday, when I said how beautiful you make the house look. It was surely a lot of work to prepare for my arrival. I want you to know I really do appreciate it," She poured as much honestly into her words as she could and Mrs. Danvers froze.

"I only did as Mr. de Winter ordered," A tight-lipped smile formed on her face, as if the compliment hurt her, and continued to leave.

"I..." She willed her voice to be louder and wrung out her hands. "I hope that we can become friends. And, everything with the house can be as it was. You know much more about everything than I do, so I'm more than happy for you to continue to look after everything as you see fit."

That, for some reason, actually got Mrs. Danvers to turn and face her. "As you wish, Madam. Should you need anything else, that is the house telephone. I assume you'll want to write your letters now."

She didn't try to stop Mrs. Danvers leaving the room this time. She was... confused. A telephone in a house that called to another phone inside the same house? Was it really so hard to just... walk? And, letters? Was she supposed to write some? She didn't have family, she didn't have friends (unless she wanted to count Mrs. Van Hopper), and she didn't work. She wasn't a socialite, and she wasn't sure if she really wanted to become one.

That night, she laid in bed, alone. Maxim was busy writing something and had promised he would be up in an hour or so. She balled the sheets up in her hands and clutched them to her chest as she turned onto her side. When she closed her eyes she felt thick fabric against her back and a cold hand moving down over hers, soft for a moment, and then powerful and stern, clutching at her wrist and she wanted so badly to be pleasing, to be obedient, to be good, to be told that she was good, and pretty, and wanted.

She tried to shake away the images, but they kept coming back, until she ended up falling asleep, surrounded by a warm fog that left goosebumps along her skin, and dreamt of a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Ich's gay awakening.
> 
> So I finally watched Rebecca last night and was curious how many fics there were for the musical and there's only 6 and none of them are Danvers/Ich so I wanted to fix that and I don't know I just suddenly wrote this without really meaning to. I know Ich/Narrator/I is normally written in first person, but I'm not that comfy writing in first person so stuck to third person. Writing two women in third person when one of them doesn't have a name isn't necessarily the easiest thing so I hope it makes sense.
> 
> I based them of Pia Douwes' Danvers, and Christins Patten's Ich, but hopefully you can still imagine this with other versions/portrayals of the characters.
> 
> Big thanks to [imdezembervorjahren](https://imdezembervorjahren.tumblr.com/post/618310874596294656/video-gift-rebecca-das-musical-with-english) for making English subtitles for the musical, I based some of the dialogue off their translations.


End file.
